


Unresolved

by deadeyedwritergirl



Series: Love Me Again [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadeyedwritergirl/pseuds/deadeyedwritergirl





	Unresolved

**Zayn:**

> **_**...there was the blood from your heart on my hands again. Though I swore I washed it out in the rain...**_ **

 

“ _Look who we have, it’s none other than Liam Payne, looking dapper in all black.”_

Zayn wasn’t really sure why he was sitting there watching this on a school night. He had marking to do, and lessons to prepare for, but it was one of those days.

One of those days where his chest felt like a black hole and all he wanted was to feel something, just a little something to prove that he hadn’t completely destroyed his heart, to know that it still beat somewhere deep in there, even if it was under the debris of all that had happened.

And only one thing, or person, ever did that for him.

Liam was smiling at him through his TV screen from the red carpet of the music awards. He was smartly dressed, with his hair quiffed up and Zayn couldn’t believe how even after everything, he still looked at Liam and saw perfection. He still looked like a dream, the dream Zayn had fallen too hard for, only to wake up in the rubble of a nightmare.

 _“Well, thank you. You look lovely as well,”_ Liam said to the girl interviewing him.

 _“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say. Now, Liam you’ve been nominated for a whopping 6 awards this year for your latest album. How does that feel? You must be ecstatic,”_ she asked, holding the microphone up to him again.

Zayn wasn’t sure, but for a moment he could have sworn that he had seen Liam’s picture-ready smile falter before perking up again.

_“Um, yeah. Feels great. It’s my first time here and to have been nominated for so many awards feels wonderful. It’s unbelievable, really. I sort of wish it was for a happier album though, but what can you do?”_

The last bit was delivered in that understated, humorous way that was signature to him, but there was something else there, something bitter. It twisted in Zayn’s gut and made the sip of coffee he’d just taken taste pungent.

_“Yeah, as you say, it’s been quite the year for you, as is evident in your music. What do you think people resonated with most in your album, that’s made it such a huge success?”_

Liam looked pensive as he thought his reply through. Zayn noticed that he was doing that thing he usually did when he was uncomfortable, when something had perhaps hit too close to home so he’d lightly scratch just above his mouth with his thumb and press his lips together, to hide a scowl or a frown or whatever emotion would be displayed on his too-expressive face.

 _“Heartbreak, innit?”_ he said after a moment, _“everyone can relate to that because everyone’s had their heart broken.”_

And yeah, it had been about heartbreak, not just Liam’s though, but Zayn's as well.

The songs documented their breakup from Liam’s point of view in emotion so _vivid_ that he’d only been able to listen to it twice so far since its release.

One song that had stuck with Zayn and had made his insides twist and churn was called “ ** _Pretend_** ” and he remembered every word of it even though he’d only been able to listen to that one only once. To listen to it more than that would have been masochistic.

The song started ominously with Liam almost whispering the opening line,

>   
>  ****You’re a pretender, a world class actor…****

Then the rest of the song began to pick up as he launched into a hurt tirade, throwing around scathing words like _liar_ , _heartbreaker_ and _betrayal_ , finally ending with

> ****...you played it so well, made me think you would stay.****

By the end Zayn had no doubt that all of those words were directed at himself and he felt each anger-filled line like it was a razor blade to his skin, cutting into and opening up wounds that had barely healed.

Liam’s anger at him reverberated through the song and it was clear he was upset with Zayn, maybe even hated him when he wrote it and he couldn’t blame him because for all that Zayn had intended to stay and make things work with Liam, he’d only ended up hurting him and he didn’t need a song to make him feel guilty about that, he already did.

Liam seemed sad as he spoke about the album.

That’s all Zayn could see as he watched this man that he used to know, used to love – _still_ loved – on the television screen. He said the words and was still smiling, but Zayn felt that something was off. Maybe it was the intuition of a man who had been deeply in love and deeply invested in knowing him or maybe it was the wrongness of the smile.

The smile that Zayn had learned and loved the curve of wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t reaching his eyes like it did when he was genuinely happy. There were no crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and that mischievous glint that Zayn loved wasn’t there.

The cavity in his chest began to fill with feeling. A mixture of guilt, anger, sadness and resentment began to twist in his chest and it felt like the beginnings of a storm.

As he watched Liam move almost zombie-like through what should have been the best night of his life, seeing the struggle in his eyes as he fought to stay afloat and keep the smile on his face, Zayn’s heart thudded in his chest sending wave after wave of aches through him.

Though it hurt to watch Liam like this, Zayn couldn’t say that he regretted his decision. They’re relationship hadn’t been the same after the cheating scandal and neither one of them was healthy enough to be with the other.

Their growing co-dependence, Zayn's insecurities and Liam’s endless feelings of guilt were just too toxic an environment, not only for them but for Taylor too. She was too young, too impressionable to be raised in that kind of home.

Zayn and Liam each had to sort through their feelings, and they couldn’t do that and build a healthy relationship on a bed of undealt with pain. But Liam would never have walked away. He was too stubborn and too in denial to see that they needed the space to heal. So it fell to Zayn to be the villain, to be the one to break their family apart for the good of all of them.

  
It hurt though, of course it hurt to feel like you had destroyed the people you cared about most. But Zayn was getting better about the guilt. He spoke to his mom regularly and she’d talked him through some of his darker nights. She’d suggested he see someone professional, but Zayn had never trusted that process, but talking to his family, was helping.

That is until he saw the state of Liam and it threatened to undo all of the work he'd done over the months.

Finally, it was too much. Seeing his own sadness and pain reflected back at him by Liam was too much. So, without another glance at the screen he grabbed the remote and switched the television off.

  
**Liam** :

>   
>  _**“Put on a brave face. Act like an earthquake didn’t come right in and tear it up, everything we’ve built inside this beautiful and safe space.”** _

  
“Speaking of heartbreak, the lead single ‘ _ **One Last Apology**_ ’ was nominated for two awards, can you tell us a little bit about the story behind it?” the interviewer asked, but honestly Liam wasn’t focused on the question.

Instead he was trying to temp down the flame that seemed to have flared up in his chest and felt like it had set his alight. All of the flashing lights and the din really weren’t making it easy for him to focus either.

Niall had warned him, asked him if after months of hiding from the spotlight, he was ready to face it again, especially on the biggest night in music, and Liam had said he was.

It was a big night for him and he’d wanted to be there but he hadn’t expected to have to talk so much about the _album_ and what it _meant_ and how it came about.

Usually, on these red carpets they talked about who he was wearing and who he was looking forward to seeing performing, and he’d come prepared with those answers. What he hadn’t been prepared for, was to face the ghost of Zayn at _every_ turn as interview after interview he was asked about the songs that were almost exclusively about _him_.

“Liam?” the interviewer prompted, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“Uh, sorry, yeah. Um, well I guess it’s about not knowing what else to do to show someone you’re sorry and so even though you’ve said it a million times, you apologise one last time, hoping they’ll stay.”

He wondered if Zayn was watching him right now. He wondered if he’d listened to the album and thought he was pathetic for writing an entire LP about him.

He felt pathetic.

Pathetic because months into being without Zayn and despite how scorned and blindsided he felt by the break up, he still wanted him, was still in love with him. ‘ _ **One Last Apology**_ ’ had been a pathetic, grovelling attempt to make Zayn understand how sorry he still was for ever cheating on him in the first place and maybe somewhere deep down he’d hoped that Zayn would hear it and come back, or at least call. Just _something_.

Like he'd said, pathetic.

The interviewer looked at him like perhaps he had said too much. And maybe he had. He’d found himself on numerous occasions letting little quips and comments slip, just little hints at the war that was going on in his head about their relationship and what it had come to. The resentment he had let build up over the last few months just kept leaking out of him like he was an overflowing bucket that had taken too much and couldn’t hold it all anymore.

“Uh, yeah...okay. That’s interesting,” the interviewer said awkwardly, probably not knowing what to say or where to go now that Liam had led the interview down a dark and deeply personal path.

Luckily for her, someone tapped Liam on the shoulder, indicating that it was time he moved on to the next one. 

“Well, thank you for talking to us, Liam. Have wonderful night and good luck.”

Liam just nodded and smiled, hoping that people wouldn’t notice how talking about the album seemed to bring him back to a place that he really would have rather not gone to that night.

He hadn’t realised how raw it all still was because he’d avoided talking about the music so far. He’d refused to promote it because he’d known that he would have to delve too deeply into the whats and the whos with people speculating and wanting him to confirm their theories as if it wasn’t obvious and as if it was any of their business. Some execs hadn’t been too happy with that decision, but there were perks to being best friends with the bosses.

But now that he’d had to talk about it all, even though he hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of the backstory to the songs, he realised that all the pain was still very much there, like a festering wound, irritated by the slightest touch.

Liam made no mistake, he knew that he was responsible for his relationship imploding. That had never been a question. He’d done something incredibly stupid, selfish and thoughtless and he could make all the excuses he wanted but none of it would explain away his culpability.

It was just that knowing he was responsible for the break up didn’t make it hurt any less. He Still felt a bit winded by it all, a consequence of having everything he had ever wanted in his hands and then watching it all dissipate again. 

It hurt like nothing he had ever known.

 

**Later…**

  
_“...and album of the year goes to…Liam Payne for ‘Broken’!”_

Liam couldn’t believe it as his name was announced. He just sat there in utter disbelief until someone pushed him out of his seat and towards the stage.

His heart was pounding and his stomach was flip-flopping as he climbed the stairs to the stage, while one of his songs played through the speakers.

He thanked the presenters who congratulated him with a hug and a handshake and with the award now in his hands, he approached the podium.

“Uh, wow! What an honour!” he said smiling beatifically as he looked at the award in his hands before he placed it on the stand.

“Ah, so first I’d like to thank my bosses who just happen to be two of my very best mates, Harry and Niall. Who have been amazing throughout the process of making this album.”

There was a round of applause before he continued,

“I’d also like to thank everyone who I worked with on this album, Kevin, Chase, James, Charlie, Ryan and a lot of others. The list is long.” 

There was a smattering of chuckles and more applause.

“I’d like to thank the academy for this honour and of course the fans who continue to buy the music and support me. You all have been so amazing, thank you.”

There were whoops from the audience, clearly there were a few fans in the room. He smiled at that.

There was another person he would have wanted to thank, someone he would have wanted to share this moment with, but couldn't. A bitter pang stabbed him through the heart and he had to take a deep breath before speaking again.

“Lastly,”

he said, his smile dimming, and his right hand automatically going to fiddle with the platinum band he wore on his left thumb (the one that _he_ had left Liam holding  _that_ night), twisting it round and round as he continued to speak,

“to someone who taught me to love and then took it away: you shattered one dream but helped me fulfil another. This album would never have happened without you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before the room broke out into confused applause as he took his award and followed the ushers off stage.

He kicked himself as he was led to the press room backstage.

He shouldn’t have done that. What he’d done was childish and petty.

But as he’d stood on that stage, looking at that award, he’d had a flare up of the hurt and anger all over again. That night was meant to be one of the best moments of his life, instead he’d had to share the moment with feelings of loss and guilt and loneliness, all because the first person he’d wanted to share that moment with wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for over a year now and it had sucked all the joy out of _his_ moment.

So he’d let the bitterness out in front of millions of people.

“The press room is right through there, Mr Payne,” the usher said, pointing out the double doors with the word press written in bold on them. “When you’re ready, sir.”

Ready? He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be. Not after his little outburst on stage. Someone was bound to ask him about it an he’d have to backtrack and try fix the mess because if he was being honest Zayn didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve the media attention and likely negativity that would result from the hurt words he’d let out in a moment of bitterness and resentment.

He would fix it though, _somehow_. Because despite his own feelings about it, Zayn had done what was best for himself and Liam couldn’t resent him forever for that. Not when he had caused the situation in the first place.

He _knew_ that, but knowing and feeling were always two different processes. One needed conscious work and he’d have to put that in finally, so he could hopefully move on from the past.

Was he ready to do that though? 

He sighed, then looked up at the usher who was holding the handle to the doors, ready to open them.

He didn't have a choice.

“I’m ready,” he said finally, a determined lilt to his voice, _“let’s do it.”_

 

 


End file.
